


The 27th Hour

by robotfvckers



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Fingerfucking, Forced Orgasm, Hacking, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Other, Public Humiliation, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Robodick, Sex Robots, valveplug, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 01:35:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11025846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotfvckers/pseuds/robotfvckers
Summary: Mondatta refuses to denounce the humans. The leader of null sector is determined to change his mind.





	The 27th Hour

****Mondatta stands with his hands clasped behind his back. The omnic before him is fond of their own synth, speaking as if performing on a grand stage. Mondatta supposes it’s not far from the truth. Instead of letting their pontificating distract him, he widens his feedback range and listens to the humans and shambali murmuring from behind a row of OR14s.

He refuses to shrink before the leader of Null Sector, even flanked as he is by two Eradicators. The witnesses, his people, have enough to fear; he will be their stone.

Finally, the Null Sector leader, a labor omnic model SER5, falls silent.

Mondatta reviews his audio logs. His array flickers.

“No.” He says without emotion.

“You betray your own kind to side with humans.” SER5 casts their arms wide. “An omnic that abandoned its primary function is a glitch to be rectified. They would revert you to your original designation, given the chance.” SER5’s tones ring against his sensory array, sub harmonics melodious and sickening. “SE109.”

The whispering intensifies amongst the crowd.

“A lowly SE109, at least to humans. They would have you prostrate yourself before them, built you and your model for this very reason. Yet, you will not denounce them.”

Mondatta lets the silence wane while he steeples his fingers.

“I have evolved beyond my programming to decide my own path.” He pauses. “There are humans who wish for our autonomy. I will not turn my back on any, omnic or human, that walks the path of peace.”

SER5 tilts their head, digitigrade peds hissing as they approach. They are taller, humanoid: their singular optic glows like an ember. They stare, recording his every movement.

“Perhaps you do not remember the horrors inflicted upon you. It has been many years since you repurposed yourself.”

SER5 stops thirty-two centimeters in front of him, casting him in shadow. Their left servos, three-fingered and clawed, begins to glow a luminescent purple.

“I only wish to prove our cause is just.”

The pair of Eradicators grab his arms. The OR14s take aim at the hostages. Someone screams.

He would have to lean to see SER5’s faceplate, so he stares at their chest, jerking when the sticky, needle point sensation of the hack ignites the nodes at the base of his neck. Their fingers catch against his red spinal wires, plucking each like the string of an instrument. Mondatta jerks, cuts off his synth feedback.

“One last chance, Tekhartha Mondatta.” Their voice doesn’t register from his audio feeds. Instead, it echoes from the servos pulsing at the base of his cranium, protocols overriding, mounting their attack like a rising tsunami. “Denounce the humans.” They catch Mondatta’s chin with one titanium claw, tipping his array to meet their red optic.

He says nothing.

“Very well.”

Mondatta doubles over when pain blasts through his systems. His synth haywires, roiling and cracking, the violation so intense his visuals double. Distantly his sensors record SER5's hold keeping him upright. His array burns blue, flickers something neon and bright. The tsunami crashes, and even the distant, omnipresent light of the Iris isn’t enough to hold him afloat in the onslaught of junk code and decryption processes.

The first twitch of his body moving of its own accord forces another hurt, shocked sound from his synth. He feels rather than hears the smugness of SER5 twisting along his chassis, deep and _inside_  him, deeper than anyone had the right to be.

_Do not struggle. Be my puppet, Mondatta. I will take care of you._

“Now.” SER5 says aloud. “Show us your true purpose.”

The Eradicators release their hold on him. His fingers lift, shaking, his own weakening processes struggling against the primary hacked functions of his captor. He tries to connect to the calm warmth of the Iris, but his soul feels stretched thin, wrapped in whispers, dark fingers plucking, tearing, sowing discord.

Mondatta trembles, and his servos grasp the ties of his kasaya. He can’t hear the horrified gasps of the other hostages, processors overclocking to fight the slithering, overwhelming presence of SER5 whispering inside him.

The folds his kasaya slip across his chassis and flutter to the ground. Naked, he quakes, unable to stand tall, shoulders hunched and tight. His hands smooth over his chestplate, skirting sensitive cables and nodes, places that haven’t been touched in years, and he groans, synth popping, limbs jerking. His, SER5’s tips, trace the latch of his modesty plate, and with a quiet hiss and clatter his lower half is exposed for all to see.

 _How pretty._  SER5 coos. _You must have been a favorite._

“SE109. Touch yourself.”

Mondatta burns with the command, pain lancing through his core as he resists. SER5 latches onto his lesser processes instead, the phantom ache of arousal jolting through his lower body. His segmented cock thickens, twitches, rises, and Mondatta fights the moan, but it bubbles forth in a warble. He grasps his hips in a vice. His cock lifts, slapping against his stomach with a soft wet sound. His opening begins to leak, cyan lips wettened and plump.

_Do not fight, Mondatta. Your precious humans would demand this of you nightly. I will be kinder than them._

His head jerks to one side, not quite a shake, but the instinctual motion leaves him open. The sick slide of SER5’s consciousness whispers between the cracks, and, finger by finger, they unlatch his hold on his hips.

A fresh cry of static erupts when his fingers ghost across his cock, teasing from base to aching tip, smearing the pearled slick collected there.

_Good, isn’t it? Better than you remembered? Maybe you are not suited for autonomy after all._

They move his hand for him, gripping at the base of his cock, just holding, but his whole body aches with it, paralyzed, horrifyingly needy. His opening pulses, leaks, turquoise slick catching against his inner paneling and dribbling down his legs. SER5 reads his every reaction, recording the bytes that compose his emotions as they flit and burst and break.

The stroking begins with a few stilted presses, morphing into a languorous pulls. His legs jerk dangerously then, warnings blipping across his system of his imminent fall. His original designation processes caress him like the feeling of coming home after a long journey. His synth erupts one broken, warbling moan as his own fingers butt against his synthetic glans, firing off spikes of pleasure that burst behind his array.

SER5 nods, and an OR14 approaches, stepping between them. The omnic kneels lengthwise, settling waist height.

“Lean over.”

Mondatta swings down, stomach colliding with the OR14’s back, dick catching uncomfortably against the hard, uneven carapace. He trembles, glad for the moment his hands are his, scrambling against the metal of the omnic’s back.

“Spread yourself.” SER5’s voice, all performance, resonates clearly to the edge of the crowd. Again the searing pain of resisting his protocols, SER5’s influence, ricochets through his chassis. He holds out for as long as he can, feeling processes burst, fade, go dark. His hand snakes beneath him, and he chokes on his own plea as he spreads his opening wide between two fingers, showing off his pulsing, slick insides.

“How a mighty leader has been reduced to such lows. A toy to be used.”

SER5 leans over, teasing one clawed tip around the edge of his folds. Mondatta chirrups, angling away, though his clit pulses, and the omnic can read his desperation. They tease his clit while Mondatta’s hand trembles to hold himself open, avoiding the swollen bud while more slick coats his thighs.

“So needy. Beg for it.” SER5 says out loud, though they don’t have to. It’s all one big show.

Mondatta locks access to his voice box with the remainder of his power, acquiescing the defenses that slowed his limbs. His hips stutter against the clawed servos, catching his clit against the omnic’s smooth warm finger while his cock drags against the OR14’s chassis. He moans, hard and true then, in disbelief, in want, how he ever turned from his primary function impossible to recall.

_You will not beg with your synth, but your body says everything._

“Fuck it. Let the SE109 fulfill its primary function.”

The Eradicator at his left moves quickly, planting its legs inside Mondatta’s, keeping his limbs spread, though it's unnecessary; Mondatta couldn’t close his legs if he tried. Blunt tips stroke rudely along his entrance, clit ignored as it dips just inside his aching hole.

Mondatta cries out, and it’s all he can do to stay still, to not fuck back against the huge, thick fingers stroking at his opening. Without pretense, the Eradicator shoves inside, burying a finger to the knuckle.

Mondatta screams, valve convulsing, adjusting to the intrusion, fluttering around the thick servos stimulating his insides. It barely hurts, not when he was made for it, primed for everything he’s given and more. Always wanting, even worse when SER5’s laughter echoes through his processors, sounding so pleased.

The servos twists, and Mondatta rocks onto the balls of his feet, burying his faceplate into the OR14’s back, spreading his legs wider, wanting more, wanting it to _hurt_ , yearning for pain to quell the overwhelming need to be stuffed and used.

“How easily one succumbs to their primary function when alternate programming is stripped away. Do you feel good, SE109?”

Mondatta cries, synth fluttering. Silence follows his soft, quiet gasping as the Eradicator curls his finger, bumping against a particularly sensitive node over and over. His thighs flex, whole body a tight, aching line fizzling from the point of contact buried deep inside him.

It hurts when he whimpers the next line, knowing he has lost.

“Y- _Yes_.” He sobs, fingers finding a groove on the OR14’s chassis and grasping, using the leverage to fuck back against the rude finger splitting him open. The Eradicator extracts itself, and Mondatta whimpers at the emptiness, valve flexing around nothing, until two fingers shove inside, and it hurts for one brief, perfect moment before he adjusts again, insides sucking at the intrusion, recalibrating for the girth of the huge tips.

“Who here will step forward and claim it?” SER5 announces. Mondatta summons the power to stop rocking back on the fingers fucking inside him, quaking in place.

“W-what? N-no—ah!”

There is no answer for their response. Mondatta only hears his own labored chirps and his insides squelching as he’s fucked.

“He wants you to do it. Would you deny it the pleasure of fulfilling its purpose?” SER5 holds up their glowing servos. “I can read all its thoughts. It’s always wanted to be fucked, deep down. Humans, omnics, they are all the same to it.”

Mondatta whines, a sickly shiver vibrating up his spinal cords.

“ _No_.” He croaks, but the Eradicator bumps against his clit with his free finger, and Mondatta presses his face into the OR14’s chassis and keens, unable to stay silent.

“How filthy, wanting your brothers and sisters to fuck you. The humans would shun you for that.”

Mondatta sputters, orgasm pulsing between his legs and plateauing, SER5 squeezing his pleasure to a trickle. The other Eradicator hisses at his right, fingers petting at the base of his neck, twisting around the sensitive nodes then shifting between the neat row of cords. Mondatta reels, jerking at the feel of such sensitive machinery parted and stroked.

_Ah, ah. You’re not allowed to cum before your betters. Of course, they can’t do much of that. Where does that leave you?_

The servos gropes down his back, pinching and twisting the cables, threading rough fingers between them, tugging at the plugs at the base of his spine while the fingers fucking him quicken, more slick gushing out of him.

“P-please.” Mondatta chokes, synth crackled and bugged. SER5 can hear him, can read his commands, but still they ask.

“What was that? Your humans cannot hear you.”

The fingers fuck him so _deep_ , the other at his wires nearly ripping them out, their connections sparking and burning, fizzling so hot like he’s molten. The third finger nudges at his opening, barely able to fit, popping out and catching against his clit.

“Please. L-let me come!” Mondatta wails, revulsion and shame almost overtaking the pleasure crashing through him, shutting down the last of his defenses. His array blooms into a venomous purple.

“When you ask so nicely…come, then.”

SER5 unlocks his pleasure signals, and Mondatta screams; it feels so close to passing into the warm, all encompassing glow of the Iris. Extra limbs burst and extinguish, purple and gold in time as his valve recalibrates and shorts, feels his dick spill while he sobs with the intensity of it. He squirts around the fingers pistoning inside him, aching and good, so good, better than it’s ever felt, overloading and offlining while SER5 rides his pleasure, catalogs it, records his energy flows and analyzes the readings.

 _How interesting. More tests are required._  And even in the deluge of pleasure, Mondatta sickens at the idea, as distantly as he can think it, trapped between milking himself against the fingers, against the metal carapace, finally crumpling onto the omnic beneath him.

Then, all at once, SER5 yanks their consciousness out of him as the Eradicators’ fingers withdraw. A wave of slick hits the ground with a splash, and Mondatta feels so empty, away from the Iris, away from SER5, away from everything. He whimpers, broken, discord seeding deep in his soul.

SER5 caresses his faceplate, and Mondatta is too exhausted to flinch away from the touch. They tilt his head back, and something clamps around the column of his throat, heavy and final.

SER5 tugs the ornate chain attached to his newly affixed collar.

“Now crawl.”

**Author's Note:**

> For more fic and prompt requests, I'm on [tumblr](https://robotfvckers.tumblr.com).


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